


i'll keep you warm in time

by saunatonttu



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuuin no Tsurugi | Fire Emblem: Binding Blade, Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken | Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword
Genre: EliHec Week, M/M, canonical death mentioned, lilina and roy as non-biological siblings, long-lasting love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 04:39:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18358787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saunatonttu/pseuds/saunatonttu
Summary: They always had each other's backs, and they always would.





	i'll keep you warm in time

**Author's Note:**

> Combination of EliHec week's prompts! Initially meant to write something longer for each day, but I got lazy in the end. Hope it's enjoyable either way. :)

_youth._

They were mere children when they met, and to some (Uther) they still were children at the age of seventeen. It was at this age they met Lyndis, who would become a lifelong friend even if they later lost contact. It was at this age that they went on an adventure that would shape their lives with each thing gained and life lost. Marquesses Elbert and Uther passed away – one tragically before his time, one just as tragically from an illness hidden from a baby brother.

They were children still in the eyes of the world, in the eyes of their enemies, but they pulled through victories, supporting one another and standing by the other’s side, each with a certain vow in their mind as they did so.

As much as the youth were ridiculed on their way, they never ceased to believe in one another.

For theirs was a strong bond, and it would only grow stronger from here on.

 

_sparring._

Once their grand adventure was over, they had less time for one another – even in terms of their favourite pastime, which had been sparring and testing one another’s strength. Both their homes required much of them, and that left little time to take care of personal friendships.

But Hector and Eliwood were stubborn in their own ways; they found the time to spar, axe-vs-sword, although they could no longer do so entirely privately. Their interactions were now as marquesses, and everything was available for other people to scrutinize with narrow eyes and knowing smiles.

They no longer held Durandal and Armads in their hands, for those days were past now and those weapons too sacred for meaningless tests of strength. Perhaps it was for the better: despite himself, Eliwood couldn’t quite forget cutting down Ninian with the blade, and Hector couldn’t quite forget the death warrant hanging over himself.

“This reminds me of when we were kids,” Hector would say when their wooden weapons clashed, his grin visible under the thick growth of a beard. “You with that little wooden sword, and I with—”

“An actual axe no one knew where you got it from,” Eliwood finished with a serene smile, eyes glowing with teasing light as he thrust his sword hand forward to test Hector’s reflexes. Hector sidestepped effortlessly, and Eliwood’s smile remained the same. “I recall Lord Uther was quite upset with you.”

“He was upset at a few people that day.” Hector twisted the axe in his hand, and Eliwood moved to block it at the exact time Hector swung it. Eliwood’s overgrown bangs fell over his eyes, but Hector still caught the familiar blue staring at him.

“Haha, well, don’t _you_ be too upset when I take this sparring match, Hector.”

They still counted their wins and losses – or, rather, Eliwood did, but Hector suspected he must be making up the numbers as Hector couldn’t possibly have lost to Eliwood any more than Eliwood had to him.

But, he figured, he’d always been bad at math either way.

 

_comfort._

Both their wives passed away, but they always had each other. One grieved more than the other, but as Eliwood told Hector: no one was counting how much grief one expressed or felt, and no amount of it could ever undo what had happened. So it was fine if Hector couldn’t do what others did; grief had its own forms, and everyone their own ways of dealing with it.

In his own grief, Eliwood asked Hector, “No matter what I lose, I’ll always have you with me, won’t I?”

Hector, with some guilt as he knew it was a lie disguised as a promise, said, “Of course, Eliwood. No matter the distance.”

But it made Eliwood smile tenderly, drove the haunted look away from his face, and the embrace he gave Hector was one Hector couldn’t stop replaying in his mind long after he had returned to Ostia.

 _I’m much too old for this_ , he thought, deep-set grief in his own bones, but he couldn’t help smiling.

 

_daybreak._

They had witnessed many dawns together, but they had seen many more without each other. This was one of the mornings Eliwood had to face without Hector. The fall mornings of Pherae were beautiful, with everything still yellow and orange and not yet unevenly brown, but Eliwood could only see the barest hints of sunlight peeking in from between the cracks of the curtains covering his bedroom’s window.

He had trouble sleeping lately, so he kept waking up around daybreak most days now.

It always drove his thoughts to Hector and the kids and the distance between them; the empty space next to him didn’t cease to make his chest ache, though – as Marcus so aptly put it – it was just as likely to be his illness.

Even so, Eliwood was sure he would feel better to have Hector there with him, laughing and running thick fingers through his tangled red hair. It might not remove the miserable exhaustion completely, or the weakness clinging to his bones, but at least it would be enough to make Eliwood smile.

Daybreak had once been such a joyful thing for them, but now Eliwood wished he didn’t have to wake up to it at all.

At least, he thought as he curled under the blankets once more, the same sun watched over them both.

 

_legacy: children._

Hector died, of course, and for much longer than Eliwood could bring himself to admit, he wished it had been him instead. Hector’s absence in his life was inconsolable, but, like the other losses in his life, Eliwood accepted it, though the exhaustion on his shoulders felt much heavier with Hector gone.

But it wasn’t as though Hector hadn’t left anything behind.

Lilina and Roy were both still there: the apples of both their eyes, the witnesses and proofs of Hector and his life. Their children, who might not be blood-related but who loved each other as siblings.

They both looked at Eliwood with such worry it nearly had him tear up. Instead, he ruffled both of their hair and told them, “He’d be terribly proud of you two, you know.”

Roy studied him with knitted brows and eyes that reflected the boy’s own grief, and Eliwood’s heart softened at the sight.

Lilina was just as serious, but her mind was already elsewhere, Eliwood could tell: most likely on how she should lead the united Lycia, how she could do it with people she’d grown so close during Elibe’s crisis. Eliwood sighed fondly at this girl, at the memory of Hector being flustered over a prophetic dream of his darling girl.

Ah, it had been so long since then…

“Roy, Lilina,” Eliwood said, voice thick through a wet cough that startled Lilina away from her worries. He raised his hand and shook his head when Roy moved as if to support his back, and the not-quite boy halted reluctantly. Softly, ever so softly, Eliwood told them, “We both love you dearly. And no matter what, we will watch over you – in whatever form we may take. So have courage to face the future. Have the courage to be kind. There is nothing more Hector and I wish from you.”

Lilina teared up, but Eliwood couldn’t have told that as she flung her arms around his neck to hug him tightly. It only showed up in the crack of her voice when she murmured “papa” like she had when she had been a little girl.

Eliwood found himself smiling, chest full of warm love, and gestured for Roy to join in. Roy did, with a small smile of his own as he set a hand to Lilina’s back and another to Eliwood’s shoulder.

Life had been tiring as of late, but the small remains of Hector in this world put Eliwood at ease – as Hector always had, as he always would, from now to forever.


End file.
